Lost Tribe of the Sith by John Jackson Miller

Author:John Jackson Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
ISBN: 9780345534811
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2012-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

4

Snap-krack! The massive ballista on Point Vigilance fired again, its mechanical recoil echoing across the harbor to the signal station on Defiance.

“Yes! Yes!” Jogan yelled from the station tower, leaping in place. His excitement rattled the northern balcony more than the explosions had. “Get ’em!”

Quarra sagged against the railing, mystified at the scene to the northwest. A rancid haze high aloft was the only clue to the previous existence of the first airship. The second had left a bilious pillar of smoke, twisting downward as it chased its unhappy payload.

Sith. Sith! Quarra cursed herself for failing to sense their evil approaching. Her job, her whole civilization, was about staying alert, and she’d let herself become preoccupied. Her fault! But then, who had known what to look for, anyway? No one alive on Alanciar had ever been touched by Sith evil. Not until a few minutes earlier, when she had opened her mind to send the warning message to the mainland. She’d felt them then: writhing tendrils of darkness, reaching into the night, supremely confident of her inferiority—and of their ultimate success.

“Success.” She’d almost felt the word, curdling in an alien mouth.

Two of the airships had fallen after that, but who knew how many more the Sith had? Who knew they had them at all? Airships weren’t mentioned in the Keshtah Chronicles, the tome that said all that had ever been known about the dark side of the world. If the Sith had airships, why hadn’t they used them before? Were they new? Was this a test?

If it was, the forces of Alanciar were passing it. Over the waters, another weapon fired, hurling a whistling cloud into the night. “That’s right! That’s right!” Jogan hooted. “Take that back home with you!”

Quarra looked up suddenly. “Home!” She bolted back inside the belfry.

Immediately she slammed into something painfully solid. They’d doused the few glowlights in the belfry, as per general orders, but she’d forgotten where Jogan’s workbench was. Now it was on her—or she was on it. Quarra rolled, struggling to untangle her leg. Jogan’s styluses tumbled from their holders, clattering onto the floor beside her. She swore, but her voice was lost in the sound of another launch from the opposite coast.

Outside, Jogan cheered. “Blast it! Blast it!”

Quarra thought the same words. She ground her teeth and kicked the table free. Turning, she scrambled over the fallen goods and stumbled toward the staircase.

“Quarra, you’ve got to see this!”

Poking his head inside, Jogan saw her vanish into the black hole of the stairwell.

“Quarra?”

The gondola quaked in the darkness. “Hurry, fools!”

All the occupants of Candra were moving now, hurling provisions over the side in a desperate attempt to put some elevation between the airship and the ballistae below. The fortification overlooking the harbor fairly bristled with weapons, Edell saw—but they had a limited range. To avoid a fiery fate, a Sith could starve a little.

But the Tribe had to know what lurked here. “Taymor! Send the alarm!”

Glancing aft, Edell saw the telepath kneel. There

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